I Will Follow You Into the Dark
by Anti-canon
Summary: Dean's your average, everyday cop and he's sure that today is going to be just like any other. Cas, his boyfriend, has a bad feeling about it and is not so sure.  Warning: Character Death, Surface level research, Gratuitous fluff


**A/N: This is a songfic, please listen to the accompanying song before/after/during reading! It sets some great context and I just love it. (If you do actually take a listen, think of it as from Cas' point of view.) This story changed itself on me several times while I was writing it. It really had a life of its own. :P PLEASE R&R! I love to hear from you guys even if it's just a quick hey! **

Dean stirred lightly as he felt himself being pulled out of the darkness. He fumbled around in the bed, grumbling as he reached out for the warm body that usually occupied the space nearby. He pried one eye open when his searching hands came up empty and let out a tired groan. A myriad of enticing aromas drifted through the door and with only a modicum of hesitance Dean crawled out of bed. With a glance at the clock on the bedside table, he decided to get ready for work before investigating the break in his morning routine.

* * *

><p>Dean gives himself a once over in the mirror, taking in his immaculate uniform and is thankful for the fact that his boyfriend can be a little bit OCD. Heading into the kitchen of their small apartment, he can't help the grin that tugs at his lips, seeing Cas nervously cook up a storm in his pajamas. Usually he can barely usher a coherent response from the other man so early in the morning, but he thinks he could get used to this. Castiel doesn't hear Dean as he approaches, and gives a slight start when he feels two strong arms wrap around his waist. "What're you doin' up so early? I thought you didn't have to go in until ten today?"<p>

Dean let his fingers skim over the smooth flesh beneath Cas' loose sleep shirt as he presses a trail of soft kisses from his ear to his shoulder, waiting patiently for a response. Cas turns the burners off as he turns in Dean's arms and leans into the touch, pressing his lips urgently against his lover's. They stumble as Cas tries to maneuver them back towards the room, before Dean carefully, but firmly separates them. "Hey, not that I don't wanna," Dean lets out a breathy laugh as he looks over his flustered partner, "and hoo-boy do I want to, but I have to get to work." Castiel's eyes darken as his kiss-swollen lips twist in a frown and he goes back to the cooling breakfast. Dean's brows furrow and he can tell that something is really off. "Hey, what's wrong?"

For a long while, he doesn't receive an answer besides a plate of food being gruffly dropped in front of him. Cas won't meet his gaze, but after a few more moments, his shoulders slump and Dean hears a mumble fall from his lips. "Can't you just call in sick today?" This makes a small knot of worry tie in Dean's stomach and it takes a moment for him to swallow his food. Cas usually hates it when he calls in sick and drags him along for a 'mental health' day. "We could stay in late, maybe catch that new buddy-cop movie you've been pretending you don't wanna see." Cas finally turns to meet Dean's stunned stare and he can see the concern etched in his face. "Just…. don't go. I've been having the most horrible feeling all morning…."

Dean gets up from his seat slowly and pulls Castiel into a tight embrace, "I thought we'd had this talk already? I'm gonna be fine. The most dangerous thing I do is give speeding tickets."

"Can't you listen just this once?"

"You know we're understaffed right now, and with Jo on maternity leave, I can't just call in last minute. Don't worry about me, I'll be home before you know it." He combs his fingers through Cas' short hair and presses a kiss to his forehead.

"You better. I'm gonna cook all your favorites and if you're even a minute late, you'll have to sit and watch me eat them while you go to bed hungry."

* * *

><p>As Dean goes to leave, he feels a heavy hand fall on his shoulder. Cas doesn't say anything a first as he slowly removes the silver crucifix that is a permanent fixture around his neck and moves to fasten it beneath Dean's collar. "I know that you don't place much stock in it, but would you wear this? For me?" Dean answers with a soft smile and tender kiss.<p>

* * *

><p>Dean fiddles with the cross around his neck for the thousandth time that day, still put-off by Cas' strange behavior earlier. He lounges outside a coffee shop, waiting for his partner to bring out their daily dose of afternoon caffeine. Impatient as ever he paces up and down the sidewalk, wishing something interesting would happen. Right at that moment, he hears a cry for help and sees an old lady waving her arms wildly at the corner as a man runs away with her purse. Dean can't help but laugh at the overly cliché situation, but takes off across the street anyway. From his position, he only sees the car by the time that it's too late. In the half second before it hits, all he can think is how pissed Cas is gonna be.<p>

When Dean opens his eyes next, he finds himself alone. At least that's what he figures. The room is pitch black and he can barely see his hands in front of his face. He doesn't remember how he got here, or even where here is. Absentmindedly his hand travels towards his neck, and when it doesn't find what it's looking for he frowns. He's not sure why it's so upsetting, but he spends the next long while searching the darkness for it.

* * *

><p>Cas splashes cold water on his face and stares into the mirror, gripping the counter in a white-knuckled grip. Grey has flecked all throughout his hair, and wrinkles have begun to fold around his eyes. He barely recognizes the reflection staring back at him. With a resigned sigh, he straightens the trench coat he's wearing over the black suit and blue tie that had always been Dean's favorite before heading out into the crisp morning air.<p>

His eyes stay resolutely on the ground as he travels up and down the grassy hills, staying a respectable distance from the funeral that is going on just out of range. He finally stops, back against an old looking tree, and lifts his eyes to stare at the sea of black and the coffin that it's centered around. Just off to the side, Dean's police portrait presides over it all. Seeing the cocky smirk and laughter filled eyes forms a knot in his stomach and he feels as though he's going to be sick.

Person after person steps up to the microphone, telling their own versions of why he was a hero to them. Castiel can barely hear the words from this distance, and the regret that he won't have his turn tastes bitter on his tongue. Not a single person there would recognize him, and he was sure that if they did, he would not be welcome. The two of them had been private, Dean's line of work still generally frowning upon their lifestyle, and Castiel's own overtly religious family having ostracized him long ago.

At last, Dean's brother, Sam, gives the last speech; a tearful and eloquent one that makes Castiel proud of the loyalty Dean had instilled in all of his loved ones. He watches, pride swelling, as a flag is folded and handed to Dean's mother before the remaining officers stand and ready their ceremonial armaments. Cas' throat clenches in the snap silence before the orders are given, he can feels his hands tremble and his mouth goes dry.

_BANG! _

Cas' heart hammers hard, once before it seems to stop.

_BANG!_

He falls, shaking, to his knees and tries to get his ragged breathing under control. His sight blurs and he feels colder than he should.

_BANG! _

He can't find his voice to cry out, as the world fades to black.

* * *

><p>Dean is still on his knees, searching, when he hears something just behind him. His head whips around, to search for the noise, breathing heavy. A voice calls out to him, and it takes a few moments for the sounds to become coherent in his mind. "Dean!" the voice calls again. He can't tell why, but it seems familiar and safe. He closes his eyes, and grips at his head, tying hard to remember why that word grabs his attention, and why the voice behind it makes him feel lighter. Searching the everlasting dark, he spots a white silhouette approaching.<p>

The light fades as the figure approaches, until it is a few feet from him. He looks up into a pair of piercing blue eyes, and suddenly, it's as if a switch has been thrown in his mind. "Cas." It comes out as barely a whisper, but the other man hears it and offers a relieved smile. Dean stands and runs his hands through Cas' hair, stunned by even amounts of grey throughout. His hands slowly travel along his face, reveling in the familiarity. He sweeps his thumbs across the lines that crinkle his eyes and finally seems to find his voice, "How long?"

Cas looks at the ground, shyly and shuffles his feet, "A month."

"But…." Dean's hands run across his face again in clarification.

"I… did not handle your death very well." Cas seems embarrassed to admit this, but his eyes are hopeful, a small smile still in place.

"How? You didn't…. y'know?" Dean's eyes are worried as he asks, anger just below the surface, waiting to break through if the answer is not to his liking.

"No, no." Cas shuffles forward and rests his head on Dean's shoulder, inhaling lightly before letting a happy sigh escape. "They call it broken heart syndrome. Very few die from its affects, but I…." Cas lets out a reluctant chuckle before lifting his head to gaze into Dean's eyes, "I literally couldn't live without you." He waits patiently for the smug smirk that is bound to follow, and can't help but smile when it does; it feels as though it's been an eternity since he's seen it.

Dean pulls him in for a tender kiss, tears leaking from each of their eyes. As he pulls back, Cas whispers against his lips, "You waited for me."


End file.
